Animatum Anima
by Boooklover12
Summary: Fudge has always been a blithering idiot who didn't take well to losing. Unfortunately for Hogwarts, he's also the Minister of Magic. When Fudge makes a new mandate, all sixth year students are required to have their soul song played. Accompanied by memories, a soul song tells the summation of a person. Their secrets, their fears... Harry is in for one wild ride.


**Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. While I may be awesome, I'm not billionaire writer awesome. Not JKR, folks.**

 **I'm baaack! Yep. That's right. The internet just got that much more annoying. For those of you who are my comrades in the battle against sanity, the ninja pineapples told me to write this. For all you boring normal people, I needed something to do. Enjoy!**

Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry stood at the front of her rowdy Transfiguration class.

Normally, due to her stern demeanor, the class was subdued, if not silent. That was not the case today. It was the first day back from the summer holidays, and the newly minted sixth years still had lots of warm weather induced energy. It didn't help that they were buzzing about the headmaster's announcement during breakfast, where he had proclaimed this a special all-house lesson. Add that to the fact that Slytherin and Gryffindor houses were like dynamite just waiting to explode, and you get one rowdy classroom.

Despite the Sorting Hat's repeated calls for house unity, the sixth years were still segregated. Gryffindors sat to the right, about as far away as possible from the Slytherins, who were glaring mutinously at them from the left. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff served as a buffer between them, even though they didn't particularly like each other either. Ravenclaws sat closest to the Slytherins, as they were the least likely to start a fight with the students in green. Hufflepuff sat closest to Gryffindor, because even though all the drama that had happened in Harry Potter's fourth year, they got along best out of all the houses.

Harry Potter himself didn't seem too interested in the chaos that was happening around him. His nose was planted firmly in a book, and he didn't even look up for Draco Malfoy's jeering. Hermione Granger sat next to him, also in her own little world, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. Ron Weasley, the third leg of the trio, was chatting with Seamus Finnigan. He, however, did look up when Malfoy made a vulgar comment about his mother. Draco had moved on from Harry due to lack of interest.

While not one of Malfoy's better insults, it still got a rise out of Ron.

"Hey, Weasel! Did the tub of lard you call your mother kick the bucket yet?"

"Shut it, Ferret!" Ron stood up, face fire engine red, with clenched fists.

Harry didn't even look up.

"You know, with your eating habits, Weasley, one day your blood traitor family isn't going to have enough food, and you'll have to go hunt! Won't that be a laugh! Blood traitor Weasley, hunting like a common Muggle!"

Anyone with two eyes and a brain could see that Malfoy was just trying to wind Ron up. Unfortunately, that did not include Ron. While brave, Ronald Weasley was not the smartest boy, nor the one with the most common sense.

Furious, despite Malfoy's pathetic insults, Ron reached for his wand. "Furnunculus!"

Malfoy, who had been expecting this, smirked. "Professor! Weasley attacked me!"

McGonagall, deciding to get the sixth years under control, shouted, "ENOUGH! The next person to utter a single sound will have detention with Filch! For a month!"

The class fell silent. McGonagall sighed with relief. This was not one of the things she liked doing as a teacher.

"Mr. Weasley, five points from Gryffindor for attacking another student. Mr. Malfoy, five points from Slytherin for antagonizing Mr. Weasley."

Malfoy started to protest, but was interrupted by McGonagall. "I am not deaf, Mr. Malfoy. I suggest you sit down and be quiet before you give me any more incentive to assign you detention."

Malfoy sat down, but shot a glare at Ron, who promptly made a very rude hand gesture back.

Harry's head remained in his book.

McGonagall cast an appraising glance over the classroom.

"Today we will be playing your soul songs," She said, the look on her face saying very well what she thought of it.

"This has been ordered by the Ministry. Soul songs are the summation of what you are, and are not to be taken lightly. They are very private, and that is why a soul song has never been played at Hogwarts before, let alone in front of an audience. The song is usually accompanied by memories, projected above the user's head. You will have your song played in the Great hall, in front of both the school and the Ministry's Auror department," McGonagall said. She spit the words in a disgusted tone, as if she couldn't believe the Ministry's abhorrent audacity.

For a moment everything was silent. Mouths hung open. Harry's head was fully out of his book now, and he was staring at McGonagall in horror. The glacial silence was broken by a sob from Hannah Abbot, and everyone began talking at once.

"My Father-!"

"You can't do this! That's a direct invasion of privacy!"

"I won't let you!"

Some of the girls began sobbing. Some of the students said nothing, staring blankly at the professor. Some were angry, shouting at the top of their lungs. Others were horrified. All of them knew what it meant. Their darkest secrets, exposed. Their greatest fears and memories, told to the world.

All of the noise ceased, however, when a single tear made its way down McGonagall's left cheek. No one had ever seen her cry. Some doubted she could.

"I am sorry. There is nothing I can do. The minister has made this punishable by a term in Azkaban. You will be expelled if you don't comply and put in that awful place."

The students stared at her. McGonagall continued, "That does not mean nothing will be done. The Wizarding world will not stand for this. Fudge," she spat, "will pay. In short term, however, the Wizengamot cannot call for a vote of no confidence until the next meeting. That means unless we want to go to Azkaban, we must comply."

She turned to the sixth years. "Let me make one thing clear. If I hear anyone, Hogwarts student or no, tease or mock another student for their song, I will make sure your life is hell until the day you leave Hogwarts!"

McGonagall passed a stern glare over the stunned students. "Am I clear?"

The sixteen year olds nodded.

McGonagall's stern façade cracked. She looked at them with soft eyes. "Be brave. Be strong. The ministry will pay."

For once, every sixth year, Gryffindor or Slytherin, girl or boy, was in agreement.

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McGonagall led the sixth years to the great hall. No one said a single word the entire journey. They were all too shocked. When McGonagall swung open the doors, they revealed an already assembled student body, and a smug looking Fudge. His smirk slid right off his face, however, when he caught sight of Harry Potter. Harry's eyes were literally glowing with emerald fire. They looked like spherical killing curses. The fact all their ire was aimed at Fudge did not reassure the minister.

He gulped.

Harry smirked, eyes flaring.

Harry's happiness was short lived, however, because McGonagall brushed past the minister, somehow stepping on his foot and making it look accidental, to lead them to the front.

They followed in silence, eyes straight ahead.

McGonagall stopped at the podium, and just like for the sorting, pulled out a scroll. She unrolled it, and called out in a strong voice, "Abbot, Hannah!"

Hannah, blonde hair no longer in ponytails like it was in first year, took two halting steps forward. Her friend, Susan, gave her a small push. Hannah gulped and continued.

McGonagall leveled her wand at the Hufflepuff. "Animatum Anima."

For a millisecond everyone in the great hall thought nothing had happened. Then the first notes shattered the silence.

" _Like an astronaut that's scared of heights_

 _With a heart that's beating at the speed of light_

 _You've been waiting for this feeling all your life_

 _Sometimes it's just hard to realize…"_

Memories began to flash above Hannah's head. They started small, with Hannah when she was little. Hannah handing her mother a toy. Hannah in the garden. Hannah on a swing. They grew progressively more important as she got older. Hannah at Hogwarts, with the sorting hat on her head, whispering in her ear.

"You are loyal, yes, and shy… No ambition… Slytherin is not for you… You do not love knowledge for knowledge's sake, but you will work hard to get it… I know just where to put you… Better be, HUFFLEPUFF!"

The memory changed. Hannah was kissing a boy under a tree. They looked very much in love.

The memories came slower, slow enough for the viewers to hear and see entire scenes.

Finally, the song ended. Hannah was extremely red in the face, and looked like she wanted to disappear.

Harry tried to tune out the next few songs, but it wasn't easy. He was absolutely dreading his turn. He knew what his song would show.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Harry's head snapped up as Hermione walked proudly to the podium. Her head was held high as McGonagall uttered the spell.

The first notes of the song seemed eerily happy, like the beat would be joyful, but the words sad.

" _When I was young, it seemed that life was so wonderful,_

 _A miracle, oh it was beautiful, magical._

 _And all the birds in the trees, well they'd be singing so_

 _happily,_

 _Joyfully, playfully watching me._

 _But then they sent me away to teach me how to be sensible,_

 _Logical, oh responsible, practical._

 _And they showed me a world where I could be so dependable,_

 _Clinical, intellectual, cynical."_

Hermione's memories began to play, but she stood proud, not giving an inch.

Boys from her school pushed Hermione down, teasing her about being a know-it-all. One of them ripped out the pages from her textbook. Hermione's mother was hugging her as she left for Hogwarts…

Harry watched with detached apathy. It was strange, seeing himself in her memories, seeing Hermione at her most vulnerable. He felt sympathy and envy for his friend. She had a mostly happy life, he noted.

Soon, her song was over, and she stepped back into the line of sixth years.

Harry watched more and more of his classmates step up to the podium, as McGonagall got closer and closer to the P's. Finally-

"Potter, Harry!"

The hall was quiet. No one blinked. In that moment, Harry was convinced time had stopped. The silence pressed in on his skull, making him feel like the world had settled on his shoulders. Not a single breath dared perforate the quiet. Eyes were wide, lips were stilled. The entirety of Hogwarts held its breath. The students knew this was primarily the reason for the decree. The ministry, Fudge, wanted to humiliate Harry Potter for proving him wrong.

Harry didn't move for two silent heartbeats. And then he took a single step forward. The sound of the plastic heel of his shoe connecting with ancient stone sounded through the hall like a clap of thunder, sending shivers down his spine.

He continued to walk, feeling the burn of a thousand eyes on his back. When he reached the podium, he stopped, and silence fell again. The swish of his cloak and the clicking of his shoes had never before seemed so monumentally loud.

For a moment Professor McGonagall paused. Her pale eyes connected with his vivid green, the color of his mother's, and for a moment it was just the two of them.

Student and teacher. Victim and reluctant administer of punishment.

Then McGonagall raised her wand, and in a voice that strained to be heard, whispered, "Animatum Anima."

The spell flashed from her wand and impacted Harry's chest, directly over his frantically beating heart.

The first notes sounded slow and brave, indifferent to the world. Harry felt them reverberate in his chest.

" _You shout it loud, but I can't hear a word you say_

 _I'm talking loud, not saying much_

 _I'm criticized, but all your bullets ricochet_

 _you shoot me down, but I get up_

 _I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose…"_

The first memory hit Harry like a punch in the gut. He knew it well enough. He heard it whenever a dementor got to close.

Above his head, his mother and father fought for their lives.

"Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run!"

His mother whisked him away up the stairs, as below, his father fell to bright green light…

"Not Harry, please not Harry…"

His mother, pleading with Voldemort. Voldemort telling her to move, and her refusal…

And then, she too, fell to green light.

The great hall was silent besides the memory, as a moment recorded in history went down on screen.

Tom Marvolo Riddle, more widely known as Lord Voldemort, aimed a yew wand at a baby Harry Potter.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green death sped towards Harry, who stood up on chubby baby legs to meet it. It impacted on his forehead with a blinding flash, and rebounded.

It hit Voldemort dead center, and with an unearthly screech, he fell.

" _fire away, fire away_

 _ricochet, you take your aim…"_

A small boy sat in the dark. He was sobbing, bright green eyes leaking pearly tears, which dripped down slightly sunken cheeks. The glowing outline of a cupboard door sat behind him.

He rocked back and forth, mumbling, "Sorry, Uncle, sorry Uncle, sorry…"

He held his wrist delicately, where it was twisted at an unnatural angle. He looked young, about three or four.

Harry remembered this well. It was the only time his uncle lost his temper and hurt him physically- besides lack of food. His uncle had been horrified- not because he hurt Harry, but because of what others might think.

" _fire away, fire away…"_

The same young boy was running, but this time he looked older, about seven. He was sprinting as fast as he could, duct taped sneakers impacting the sidewalk with loud smacks.

Behind him, a group of boys, led by one with nice clothes, a rather round body type, and blonde hair chased him and jeered.

"Slow down, Freak! We wanna play Harry Hunting!"

The boy with messy black hair and taped glasses kept sprinting. Despite his efforts, the other boys were gaining.

Desperate, the green eyed boy rounded a corner and threw himself into a dumpster. There was a sharp crack, and he appeared on a roof.

Harry's eyes went wide, and he looked down at his bewildered cousin…

" _you shoot me down, but I won't fall…"_

Vibrant green eyes peered up through raven hair.

"I'm sorry sir…. I don't know what happened," Harry said, still hiding beneath his bangs. "It wasn't me! I swear!"

The man in the suit looked down with disbelieving eyes.

"Think it's funny, do ya? Playin' a prank like that on a good, honest teacher? Blue hair! What's next, flying pigs? I'll have to suspend you for this one, son," the Principal said, and he carefully marked something in a file.

Harry's eyes widened. "Please, sir, don't tell my relatives! They'll punish me something most awful, sir!"

"Nothing you don't deserve, I'm sure…"

" _I am titanium_

 _you shoot me down, but I won't fall…"_

An eight year old sat out in a yard. It was perfectly manicured, down to the last equally pristine centimeter. Flowers bloomed in multiple colors down the lawn and under the windowsill. The garden, barely visible behind the house, was bursting with life. The vegetables were so large they were sure to be the envy of the neighborhood.

The young boy on his knees next to the flowers was in sharp contrast to the perfect vegetation. He was unkempt and ragged in clothes much too big for him and filled with holes. His sneakers had seen one too many rolls of duct tape, and his glasses one too many cracks.

He winced as a weed he was pulling sliced into his had. He held it up to his face, revealing lacerations across his palm and fingers.

Pausing for a minute he turned toward the house. Inside, the sound of a T.V. blaring could be heard, as well as laughter.

Expressive green eyes darkened. A look of disgust crossed Harry's face.

He whispered, "One day, I'll get my revenge. And everyone on Earth will feel it."

An ugly look crossed his face, and for a millisecond, he looked for the entire world like a boy named Tom, a boy who had murdered his parents.

Then it was gone, and his brow relaxed, smoothing back into a passive expression.

"One day…"

" _I am titanium…"_

This time, the scene showed not Harry, but a little blonde girl. She was smiling, and asking Harry a question.

"Harry, what's your Daddy like? Mine is a reporter, and he writes his very own magazine!"

She smiled, showing a gap between her two front teeth.

Harry frowned. "My Uncle says my Daddy was a lay about drunk."

The blonde girl frowned; in a way only innocent children can manage. "Oh. What's your Uncle like, then?"

Harry's eyes traced the outline of his shoe. "He's not nice. He doesn't like me. He's a bully."

Harry looked up, eyes bright. "One day, though, I'm gonna make him pay. He's gonna know just how I feel."

The girl tilted her head to the side, eyes widening innocently. "But then won't you be the same as he is?"

Harry looked surprised. The blonde winked, suddenly looking far older than she had any right to be, and skipped off to the swings.

" _Cut me down, but it's you who'll have further to fall…"_

Harry smiled at his uncle, completely disregarding the raised fist. "I may be a freak, but I'll never be as horrible as you."

Vernon Dursley took a shocked step back, and it was all Harry needed to make his escape.

" _Ghost town and haunted love…"_

"Boy! Wake up!"

Harry Potter jerked awake. "Coming, Aunt Petunia!"

Reaching under a small cot, he pulled out a worn sock. In the toe there was a rather large hole, and on the side a small black spider. Harry didn't even blink as he carefully lifted the spider off the sock and set it on the nearby shiny red vacuum.

Reaching up above his head, he had just enough time to turn on the light before a shower of dust landed on his head and blanket.

From above him, a boy shouted, "Wake up, Potter, we're going to the zoo!"

Each word was punctuated with a shower of dust as the boy above jumped on the stairs.

Harry sighed mournfully. Under his breath, he muttered, "Dudley's birthday… How could I have forgotten?"

He slipped on his shoes and reached for the chipped handle of the cupboard door. Unfortunately for Harry, he stuck his head out first- a thing he'd learned long ago never to do. Feet healed faster than faces.

Dudley plowed into him, laughing as he shoved his scrawny cousin back into the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry, rubbing his head, followed Dudley into the kitchen, careful to avoid the foot stuck out to trip him up.

Vernon, ever impatient, said, "Bring my coffee! And don't you dare burn the bacon!"

Harry headed for the stove, massaging his still throbbing head. Reaching for a pan, he started on the bacon. Halfway through he paused to get his uncle's coffee. Meanwhile, in the background, Dudley was counting presents. When he finished, he exploded.

"Thirty six! But last year, last year there were thirty seven!"

By the bacon, Harry rolled his eyes.

As Petunia tried to placate Dudley, Vernon cast hateful glances at Harry's back. The mail slot clicked. Almost immediately, Vernon shouted, "Get the mail, boy!"

Harry jumped. "Yes, Uncle Vernon."

Dodging Dudley's flailing fists, Harry headed to the door. As was his habit, he sorted through the mail for anything that caught his interest. There was a letter from Marge, a bill… And something everyone in the hall recognized, something that Harry looked surprised to see. A letter, addressed to Mr. Harry James Potter, sealed with wax stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

" _Raise your voice, sticks and stones may break my bones…"_

Harry Potter sat under the sorting hat.

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin…"

The hat's frown was clear in its voice. "Not Slytherin, eh? You could be great you know, it's all here in your head…"

An eleven-year-old Harry chanted faster. "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin…"

"Slytherin could help you on your way to greatness, there's no doubt about that… Well, if you're sure… Better be, GRYFFINDOR!"

Under the hat, Harry smiled.

" _I'm talking loud, not saying much…"_

Harry stood, back straight and proud, upon the steps of headmaster Dumbledore's last protection on the sorcerer's stone. Blood dripped down his cheek, following the creases formed by his determined expression, to pool by his chin. His clothes were ripped and bloody, his knees shook, and his eyes were bright and wet.

Professor Quirrell stood without his turban, face twisted with malice, put there by Lord Voldemort. As the Great Hall watched, he turned around. From the back of his head, Tom Riddle's crimson eyes flashed.

"You see what I have become? What I must do to survive? Once I have the Elixir of life, I may regain another body… But first I need the sorcerer's stone… So, boy, why don't you give me that stone in your pocket?"

Eyes wide, Harry took a few steps back, shaking his head.

"You could be great you know… Together, we could bring back your parents, Harry Potter… For that's what you truly desire, isn't it? All you have to do… All it takes… Is to give me that stone in your pocket!"

For a millisecond, it looked as if Harry would agree, but his face contorted, and he shouted, "NEVER!"

Voldemort snarled. "Get him!"

Quirrel lunged forward, arms extended menacingly toward Harry's throat.

As soon as the two connected, Quirrel winced. For a moment he seemed to pull away, but then he attacked with new vigor.

His bout of determination didn't last long. He let out a torturous scream as his hands blistered before his eyes. Stumbling backward, he held his hands before his face in horror.

Harry glanced at his own hands for a second, before he launched forward to smash his hands into Quirrell's face.

Quirrel howled.

Harry's eyes glazed, and he soon joined Quirrell in screaming, their two voices echoing in terrible harmony.

" _I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose…"_

An older Harry sat on his bed. Moonlight filtered through his window in sections, split by the steel bars mounted to the sill. It glimmered on his raven locks, giving them an otherworldly blue hue. His head was bowed, bangs covering his vibrant eyes. He sat perfectly still, legs crossed, with hands flat on his bed. His very visage was imbued with magic.

It was eerie, how quiet he was. His hair moved in an invisible breeze, so little it was almost unnoticeable, and his fingers didn't even twitch- not even with his heartbeat. His chest did not rise and fall with each life giving breath.

He seemed to be dead while sitting up.

At least until his head snapped up, and his face spit into a wide grin, moonlight bouncing off his teeth.

Slowly, so low that it was almost unnoticeable, a low rumble echoed through the windowpane. It grew steadily louder, Harry's grin getting wider with each passing second as the source of the noise came ever closer.

Bright light splashed across the bed and walls, as a grinning Ron Weasley stuck his head out of a flying car to knock on the window of Harry Potter's bedroom.

Harry leaped off the bed and threw open the window with excitement.

Ron shared his joy. "Hey, mate, we're here to get you out!"

" _fire away, fire away…"_

Robes whipped around a corner. The red hem gave away the owner's house- that of Gryffindor. Rubber shoe soles smacked down ancient halls, as the lone Gryffindor ran.

His hair stuck up in all directions, seemingly oblivious to both gravity and the wind rushing by. He halted for a second, pressing his palms to the stone wall.

" _Rip… tear… so hungry… for so long…"_

Green eyes widened, and the Gryffindor resumed his sprint.

" _I SMELL BLOOD! I SMELL BLOOD!"_

Harry ran as fast as he could, following the voice.

" _ricochet, you take your aim…"_

Within the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle stood before a grimy Harry Potter. Harry's fists were clenched, as well as his teeth, and his knuckles shone white above Ginny Weasley.

Riddle's eyes gleamed. "I have so many questions for you, Harry Potter."

Harry said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.

Riddle took it as a go ahead. "How is it, that you- a boy with no extraordinary talent- managed to defeat the most powerful wizard of all time? How is it, you, a mere baby, escaped with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort was destroyed?"

"Why do you care? Voldemort was after your time," said Harry.

Riddle sneered. "Voldemort is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter…"

Tom raised Harry's wand, directing it carefully to form elegant, fiery script, which read:

TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE

With a swish from Harry's holly wand, the blazing letters rearranged themselves.

I AM LORD VOLDEMORT

The light from the letters reflected in Harry's wide green eyes. Distractedly, he muttered, "Flight from death."

Riddle looked mildly impressed, one carefully crafted eyebrow rising into his fringe. "So you know French… No matter… You are still alone, still trapped… No mother to save you…. No Dumbledore to help you…" Riddle's face twisted with smugness. "Dumbledore! He has been driven from this castle by the mere memory of me!"

Harry, who had been looking distant, snapped back to the conversation, eyes blazing with righteous hatred.

"He'll never be gone! Not as long as those who remain are loyal to him!"

Riddle opened his mouth but paused. From the nearest pillar, the most heavenly music Harry had ever heard pulsed. It lifted the hair on the back of his neck, and his heart seemed to levitate in his chest. A bright burst of flame filled the chamber, and in its place, crowed a golden phoenix.

It flew to Harry, gently alighting on his shoulder, and dropping the frayed sorting hat at his feet.

Once Riddle saw the items, he began to laugh. His laugh- if you could call it that- was high and horrible. It sounded eerie and sinister, and it echoed- magnifying the terrifying affect a hundred times.

"So this is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat!" Riddle crowed. "A challenge, Harry Potter. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against Harry Potter, armed only with the best weapons Dumbledore can give him…" Riddle cast a disdainful glance over Fawkes and the sorting hat.

Riddle spun on his somewhat transparent heel, which was becoming clearer by the second- to face the statue of Salazar Slytherin.

" _Speak to me, Slytherin, Greatest of the Hogwarts four!"_

He hissed out the words, but for some reason they seemed as clear as normal…

The statue's mouth began to open, revealing a sliver of darkness. From deep within, something moved. Harry turned, backing up to the chamber wall, and Riddle hissed, " _Kill him."_

The memory became distorted as Harry ran…

Harry lay on the ground, eyes squeezed tight.

The memory shifted, distorting like a funhouse mirror.

The sorting hat was in Harry's hands- he quickly jammed it on his head…

Harry was moving, unsheathing a brilliant sword encrusted with rubies…

Fawkes plunged his beak into the basilisk's remaining eye…

The memory dissolved into color.

Harry stood before the basilisk, looking into ruined eyes. The sword of Gryffindor was held unsurely before him, the tip barely level with the basilisk's chin.

The great snake reared back, and with a wounded hiss struck at Harry.

The Gryffindor threw his entire weight behind the sword, driving the tip through the roof of the serpent's mouth. A single glistening fang pierced Harry's already blood covered arm, sinking in like a hot knife to butter.

The basilisk swayed, and with one last fearsome hiss, fell to the floor.

The sword slipped from Harry's quickly numbing fingertips, to land with a clatter on the Chamber floor. His blood joined that of the basilisk as he collapsed to his knees beside Ginny and the diary. With an almighty wrench, he yanked the fang from his arm, letting it join the sword on the floor.

Riddle, basking in his almost-victory, began to mock him. "So ends the famous Harry Potter… All alone in Slytherin's mighty chamber, forsaken by his friends, with only failure in his final thoughts… You'll be with your filthy mother soon, Harry… Her ill-advised sacrifice bought you twelve years of borrowed time… But Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as he knew he must…"

Fawkes landed by Harry's side with a clatter, gently nudging his beak on Harry's wounded arm. Harry and the chamber began to dissolve into a whirl of dulled colors…

"Even the bird knows you've lost! He's crying!" Riddle said, voice heavy with scorn.

As pearly white tears dropped onto Harry's arm, the chamber came back into focus.

Harry's head rose, and he looked Riddle in the eye. Riddle's face was white, and he looked disappointed. "Phoenix tears… Healing powers… I forgot…" He turned to look at Ginny. "But no matter. In a few moments I will cease to be a memory!"

Harry looked at the basilisk fang, and then at the diary lying innocently in Ginny's arms. Her red hair only added to the scene, splaying around her pale face like fire.

Reaching forward, Harry slipped the diary gently from her grasp.

Riddle raised his wand to strike Harry down-

Harry grabbed the basilisk fang-

"Avada Ke-"

The fang took a graceful arc, swinging down from above Harry's head to plunge into the diary. Riddle stopped mid-killing curse, and let loose a feral scream.

Ink poured from the diary, staining Harry's hands and the floor black. Riddle lunged forward, exploding in a brilliant orange light.

Harry panted, once again letting the gleaming white fang fall to the floor.

" _fire away, fire away…"_

"Haven't you heard? The notorious mass murderer, Sirius Black! He's escaped!"

"Peter Pettigrew- small lump of a boy, always trailing after Black and James Potter?"

"I always knew he'd turn bad- suspicious, he was!"

"It's the wizard's prison, Azkaban!"

"And the worst thing?"

"He's Harry Potter's Godfather!"

Snatches of memory flashed above Harry's head, each voice accompanied by a face- Professor McGonagall, the Minister Fudge, Arthur Weasley, a wizard no one knew the name of… Until, finally, the memories stopped at one face, that of Sirius Black. He was speaking to Harry, trying to explain something.

"Your father, Peter, and I were all animagi- your father a stag, I- I am a dog, as you saw- and Peter- Peter's a _rat_."

Sirius had a wild glint to his eye, as he frantically tried to explain. He pointed to Scabbers, clutched in a pale faced Ron's scratched up hands, and said, "That rat… He's missing a toe isn't he?"

Ron looked down at Scabbers briefly, before stammering, "S-so?"

Sirius pointed a shaking hand at Scabbers. "All they found of Pettigrew was-"

"His finger." The expression on Harry's face was one of dawning understanding. He swung his wand to point directly between his godfather's eyes. "Explain."

"When I went to confront Peter, I was mad with grief- your dad and I, we were like brothers, closer than close- I'd just lost him- and your mother. I wanted Peter to pay. When I finally caught up with him, it was in a muggle street. Peter yelled that I'd betrayed James and Lily, hexed the street with the wand behind his back, cut off his finger, and transformed to go down to the sewers with the other rats… I just started laughing… I couldn't stop… Peter, weak, sniveling Peter, had done the unthinkable… James and Lily were gone… I just… Couldn't."

" _you shoot me down, but I won't fall…"_

A spell connected with Scabbers, who grew to form Peter Pettigrew…

" _I am titanium…"_

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Harry stood on the bank of a frozen lake, wand poised like a saber to battle, aimed directly at the swooping forms of hundreds of dementors. From his wand burst a blinding light in the form of a stag. Antlers raised, it charged soundlessly across the lake.

Three forms, one recognizable as Sirius Black, lay prey to the soul sucking dementors. One was Hermione, bushy hair splayed around her head like a halo. The last form was confusing. It was clearly Harry, dressed in the same clothes as he was wearing now- but Harry was also standing on the other side of the lake.

The Harry by Sirius raised his head to watch as the brilliant silver stag chased off dementors. Silver light pulsed through the dementor horde, with the stag at the epicenter.

As the last dementors fled with an unearthly screech, the Harry on the bank beside Sirius and Hermione passed out.

The other Harry lowered his wand, noticeably panting.

" _you shoot me down, but I won't fall…"_

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Those deadly words were whispered lovingly, quietly- but they echoed like the screams of the damned.

A long white hand, bent gracefully at the wrist, delicately gripped a white wand. The vivid green color that shone from the tip contrasted its dimmed beauty, cutting through the blackness like an assassin's knife.

Frank Bryce fell with a thud, surprise and horror perpetually etched upon his face.

Lord Voldemort laughed high and cold, emotionless and indifferent to death as only one who believes it can never touch him can be.

Harry Potter's eyes snapped open- his scar red, flaming- the green of his eyes glowed the exact shade of the killing curse, before fading as his forehead was marred by a frown.

" _I am titanium…"_

"Wands out, d'you reckon?"

Cedric's face wavered and warped in the memory. The shades faded in and out, fluctuating between black and white and color.

"Wands out, d'you reckon…" Cedric's voice said, the sentence echoing over again and again as Harry fell to his knees and Cedric succumbed to green light.

"Kill the spare!" a high voice said. The terrified audience got the feeling that this was a moment etched into Harry Potter's memory.

" _I am titanium…"_

A large cauldron sat in the center of a graveyard. Tied to a large marble headstone, was Harry. He wore tattered champion's attire, and his head lolled back and forth- a sign he was delirious.

A fire ignited beneath the cauldron. The sloshing of a liquid within sped up. Barely visible over the brim, something that looked like water started to bubble and give off red sparks. Steam rose from it and filled the clearing, obscuring the figure that stepped towards it to tend to the fire.

" _Hurry!"_ hissed a voice from the shadows.

It was impossible to tell where it came from- the hissing quality it had was inhuman and made the obscuring darkness seem alive.

The surface of the cauldron was alight with sparks now. It seemed like liquid diamonds.

The figure tending the fire mumbled, "It is ready, Master."

" _Now..._ " the eerie voice whispered. The voice was revealed to come from a bundle on the ground was the figure stooped to pick it up.

The bundle fell open as the figure reached inside. He withdrew a horrible creature with black skin and gleaming crimson eyes. It was an abomination- helpless, but still irrevocably vile.

The figure, seemingly both terrified of the creature but wanting not to touch it, dumped it into the cauldron. It fell with a splash, making a small thunk as it hit the rounded bottom.

The figure began to speak, raising his shaking wand hand and wand.

" _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!"_

The marble at Harry's bound feet fractured, and a fine yellowish dust rose up and wound through the air, settling into the cauldron. It omitted more sparks and turned a vibrant and poisonous blue.

The figure's entire body was shaking; he looked like he wanted nothing more than to run. Reaching trembling fingers into his cloak, he withdrew a polished silver dagger.

He resumed his chant, stuttering over some of the words.

" _F-flesh of the servant, willingly given, y-you will - revive your master!"_

With a tortuous howl, the cloaked figure brought the gleaming dagger to his wrist, severing it from his arm. He dropped the gruesome appendage into the cauldron, whimpering all the while, and it turned a bloody red. The glow illuminated the surrounding tombstones, making the scene more malevolent than it already was.

Stumbling, the figure made his way to Harry. His hood slipped, revealing the pinched features of Peter Pettigrew.

Peter's breath tickled Harry's hair, moving it very slightly. Once again the dagger was retrieved from the cloak, and Harry, struggling in horror, looked wide eyed down at it.

Pettigrew maneuvered it to the crook of Harry's arm, making a long incision. Panting with pain, he fumbled in his pocket for a glass phial. Finding it, he held it to the pale skin of Harry's arm, letting the crimson drips of blood dribble in.

Staggering back to the cauldron, he said, " _B-blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe…"_

As Harry's blood fell in gleaming droplets toward the cauldron, it turned a brilliant, blinding white.

His work complete, Pettigrew crumbled to a heap below the glowing cauldron. The cauldron kept simmering, sending sparks in all directions, until they suddenly extinguished. The graveyard plunged into a terrifying silent darkness, punctured only by Peter's sobbing. White steam followed swiftly after, obscuring everything but Harry and subsequent tombstone from view.

Then, slowly, rising from the mist, came a skeletal man. He was horribly disfigured. His body was that of a snake turned human- he looked like some twisted artist's imagination of a reptilian demon. A forked tongue flicked between pointed teeth as long thin fingers, topped with lengthy nails inspected his chest and face. His red eyes glowed with unholy madness- showing a soul so far beyond redemption it could scarcely imagine caring for anything beside itself. Humanity did not show in any part of this creature- this being.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

" _I am titanium…"_

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort stood a few meters apart, wands pointed at one another, surrounded by Death Eaters.

Red light burst from Harry's wand, colliding with Voldemort's vivid green. The beam of light connecting them turned a brilliant gold, and smaller strands splintered off, connecting again to form a golden dome.

A warbling note of song cut through the air, the sounds of screaming Death Eaters and connecting magic silencing in its wake. The song continued, rising in pitch, and its hope and clarity lifted the hearts of those who listened.

Voldemort screeched.

All along the golden beam, small droplets began to appear. They slowly shifted, heading towards Harry's wand. As they got closer, the holly in Harry's hand began to shake, jerking his hands back and forth.

Determination fueled by Gryffindor bravery made his eyes fix, staring determinedly at the nearest drop, willing it back towards Voldemort. Ever so slowly, the drop came to a halt. Then, shivering, as if it was reluctant to change direction, it headed back the other way.

Harry kept focusing, until nothing was left in his mind but the will for that drop to hit Voldemort's wand.

And then-

With a loud screech, the drop connected, sending large shapes out into the dome. The first coalesced into the form of Cedric Diggory.

He was misty- see through- and when he spoke his voice echoed. "Harry. Take my body back will you… Take my body back to my father."

Harry scarcely had time to nod before the next shapes formed. One became the old man he had seen murdered, another the ministry witch Bertha Jorkins.

Each muttered encouragement, until finally-

Harry's father flew from Voldemort's wand tip.

"Your mother's coming," he said. "She wants to see you… it will be alright… just hold on…"

And soon enough, out shimmered the form of Lily Potter, just as lifeless as her husband.

" _Stone hard, machine gun…"_

Harry Potter sat cross legged on a damp bolder with his head bowed. Mist from a nearby waterfall wafted into his hair, littering it with crystalline dew drops. His chest moved as he dragged in a breath. It was picturesque in a cold sort of way. The scene would have been beautiful, if not for a permeating sense of guilt and loss, which tinted the trees and water with sorrow.

Hermione and Ron appeared from down the path, jeans and shoes splattered with mud, sweat on their brows. They said not a word, merely walking toward their friend.

At the sound of footsteps, Harry raised his head. His eyes were dry and a small smile tugged on his lips.

"I can always count on you two, can't I?"

Hermione grinned, and scrambled up the wet granite.

" _Fired at the ones who run_

 _Stone hard, as bulletproof glass…"_

Harry sat outside in the too perfect garden of his aunt, weeding and pruning. His frown was carved into his forehead. "Can't tell me anything… Liars. Stupid Dumbledore. Stupid Ministry. Augh!"

Harry drove the garden trowel into the earth with a large thunk. His face contorted further, as he fought not to laugh or cry.

"Boy! Hurry up! You still need to do the washing!" Aunt Petunia's voice really wasn't any more pleasant amplified.

Harry sighed and drove the trowel in deeper. Turning, he glared but nodded at his aunt, who was poking her overly large neck through the window.

Satisfied, Petunia made one more unsavory comment before closing the window with a crack.

Harry glanced at the trowel once more, before sighing. Reaching out with a tanned hand, he tried to tug it from the earth. It refused.

Looking even more frustrated, Harry glanced around. Green eyes swept the yard and the street and upon finding no one, landed back on the trowel. Smirking, Harry flicked his wrist, and the trowel shot out of the ground.

The smirk became a full blown grin as he turned back to work...

" _You shoot me down, but I won't fall_

 _I am titanium…"_

"Quiet!" Harry whispered, the unnatural cold seeping into his lungs.

"What are you doing!" Harry's cousin, large though he was, sounded terrified. "Stop it! I'll tell Dad!"

"Shut up, Dudley!" Harry's wand hand shook as he pointed the thin stick back and forth. He looked scared as well, but was doing a much better job of hiding it. His sneakers slid on the iced concrete floor of the tunnel the boys were in, almost invisible in the failing lighting.

Dudley reared back and punched his cousin in the face, knocking his glasses askew and causing his wand to fall from his hand and roll a few feet away. A rattling sound filled the tunnel, accompanied by the feeling of all encompassing sadness and hopelessness.

"Don't open your mouth, Dudley," said Harry from his position on the floor. "Whatever you do, don't open your mouth!"

His cousin whimpered. Harry scrambled across the floor, fingers grasping for the shaft of wood he knew could save their lives. The rattling increased, and a rotting hand grabbed Harry's shoulder, clothed only in frayed and ripped fabric, underneath which only darkness was visible.

Harry's panic increased. "Wand, wand, damn it!"

The grip forced him to face the dementor. Its mouth opened as memories of joy fled Harry. His mother's words echoed in his mind, his father making a brief appearance…

"No, no, not Harry, not Harry…"

"Lily, it's him! Take Harry and go!"

"Stand aside, you stupid girl!"

"No, please not Harry!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry broke away, eyes flashing in the dark as he crawled towards the wall. The dementor followed at a sedate pace, content to play with its prey.

"L-lumos…" A few inches from Harry's left hand, His wand tip blazed to life. He grabbed it, just as the dementor grabbed his chin, forcing his head back.

"E-expecto Patronum…" a faint mist flew from Harry's wand, but quickly dissipated into oblivion.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled, forcing the last of his hope into the spell. From the tip of the shaft of holly Harry gripped so tightly, a brilliant shower of light emerged. It took the form of a stag, complete with silver fur and gleaming antlers. On soundless silver hooves it charged the dementor and rammed it.

Another dementor hovered over Dudley, gently tugging its hood back.

"Get it."

The stag once again charged, driving away the dementor. Light and warmth slowly came back into the tunnel, as Harry bent over to examine his cousin...

" _You shoot me down, but I won't fall_

 _I am titanium…"_

Harry was tied to a chair, watching as High Inquisitor Dolores Umbridge paced back and forth. Behind her, his friends were held at wand point by the members of the inquisitorial squad.

"Yes, yes. Mr. Malfoy, would you please find Severus for me? I am in need of his services."

Malfoy hurried out the pink door. He seemed to like being in Umbridge's presence as much as those in Dumbledore's Army.

Leaning forward, the High Inquisitor pointed her wand in Harry Potter's face. He leaned back.

"Tell me! Where is Dumbledore! I know you were trying to contact him!" she said, as slightly crazed gleam igniting behind her irises.

"I don't-" started Harry, before she interrupted him

"Tell me!"

The door once again opened, this time revealing Snape. Apparently Malfoy had used this opportunity to escape.

"Ah, Severus. Would you please fetch me some veritaserum? Mr. Potter has some things he has been hiding the ministry needs to know."

The look on her face was absolutely horrible.

Snape let his eyes flick to Harry, tied up, and then to the rest of the captured DA, his eyes lingering on Hermione.

"I'm afraid," He said smoothly, "That you used the rest of my supply interrogating Miss Chang."

Umbridge twitched. "Well then make more!"

"Of course. Unfortunately, it shall take about a month, as certain ingredients must be picked at the full moon…"

Umbridge was livid. "Well then-"

This time, Harry interrupted. "Professor- he's got Padfoot- he's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden."

The High Inquisitor's eyes bounced back and forth between them. "What was that! What does he mean, Severus?"

Snape turned his confused face to Umbridge. "I have no idea."

He turned on his heel, black robes billowing as he swept from the room. Umbridge scowled, her nose twitching with frustration. She tightened her grip on her wand, and slashed it through the air in her fury. Continuing her pacing, she began to work herself up to something.

"Yes, it's the only way…" She trailed off, turning to Harry. "Perhaps the Cruciatus curse will loosen your tongue."

Hermione struggled in her captor's hands. "But Professor! That's illegal!"

Stepping towards the desk, Umbridge's pink heels clicked on the fuchsia flooring. With gentle hands, she laid the portrait of Minister Fudge on the desk. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

Hermione let out a frustrated whimper.

"Now, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge, advancing like an executioner in court, "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

Harry raised his chin defiantly. "No."

"Very well," the High Inquisitor said.

She brought her arm down in a grad arc. "Cruc-"

"Stop! If you won't tell her, Harry, then I will." Hermione stood with tears in her eyes, back against the wall.

Umbridge turned greedy eyes to horrified brown. "Tell me about what, Miss Granger?"

"Dumbledore's secret weapon."

" _You shoot me down, but I won't fall…"_

"SIRIUS!"

The Great Hall watched as Sirius Black, Harry Potter's innocent godfather, pitched backward into the veil.

For the first time since he was four years old, a struggling Harry Potter cried, eyes leaking tears the color of pearls down his cheeks.

" _I am titanium…"_

The headmaster and Harry Potter sat together in the head office, just as dawn was breaking over the horizon and leaking golden light into the window. It spilled across the desk, alighting upon the feathers of a newborn phoenix, and casting a strange glow on Harry's short black hair.

Albus Dumbledore stood up from his embellished chair, and crossed to the cupboard. From within he grabbed a shallow basin, in which silver and black liquid swirled. He set it on the desk, and pulled a long wand made of elder from his sleeve. Using the tip, he gently swirled the memories.

"This, Harry, is why Voldemort came after you and your parents…"

From the pool, a figure recognizable as Trelawny rose. In a voice Harry had heard only once prior, she began to speak.

" _ **The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives… The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…"**_

Dumbledore turned serious blue eyes on Harry. "This means that the person to vanquish Voldemort was born at the end of July nearly sixteen years ago to parents who had met him and lived three times. That someone is you, Harry."

Green eyes, once innocent and warm, were cold. "I know, Professor."

" _You shoot me down, but I won't fall…"_

The memories came faster now, passing in a whirl of color.

Ron slung his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Cheer up, mate. You know we'll be here if you need us."

Harry dropped his trunk on his foot, letting out a startled yelp.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"So like your father…" Sirius paused. "But you have your mother's eyes."

Harry, holding a bloody lip from where Dudley had punched him.

"It's the Philosopher's stone!" exclaimed a young Hermione.

" _I am titanium…"_

"You have dirt on your nose. Did you know? Just there." A young witch quickly left a compartment, leaving two bewildered boys behind.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" Ron's wand directed a confused troll's club to land on its head with a resounding crack.

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Hurry up boy!"

"Bless my soul, it's Harry Potter."

A note, proclaiming: _use it well._

"The boy who lived…"

A man in a shop, bowing, and smiling embarrassedly when his purple felt hat fell off.

"Swish and flick…"

A badge in a tanned hand, flashing 'POTTER STINKS.'

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have, Ronald."

"I didn't lose it, your cat ate it!"

Green eyes watched as a pure white ferret bounced from ceiling to floor…

"He's the heir of Slytherin!"

"Good boy, Buckbeak!"

"There is no good and evil, only power and those too weak to seek it."

Harry's fingers closed around a struggling golden snitch, and the crowd roared.

" _An hour long you'll have to look, to recover what we took…"_

Umbridge sat at a trial, dressed in all pink, like always. She smirked.

"It's Levi-o-sa, not Levio-sar!"

Tom Riddle, written on a marble headstone adorned with an angel.

" _I am titanium…"_

The music stopped. Above the great hall, one last memory began to play.

A woman with fiery red hair bent over a giggling baby. Smiling, she tucked a single strand of hair behind her ear as the baby's pudgy hands reached for it. She tickled him, cooing as she did so.

From the door across the room, a man with black hair and teasing hazel eyes stepped in. Putting on a look of fake concentration, he began to sneak up on the woman bent over the crib.

The redhead looked up just as he grabbed her waist to spin her around. She squeaked, turning in his grip to smack him. "James!"

He grinned as she reached up to adjust his crooked glasses. Her response was a disapproving look, slightly diminished by the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Don't scare me like that."

James burst into laughter. "But Lily…"

Lily put her hands on her hips. James pouted.

Crumbling, Lily joined her husband in laughter.

"How's Harry?" said James.

Immediately, a brilliant grin adorned Lily's face. She gestured to the crib, where little happy noises could be heard. Both parents bent over as their hands joined in tickling the baby.

James smirked at the innocent newborn. "You're my little boy, you know that Harry? I'll bet you'll be great at Quidditch!"

"James!"

Once again, Lily smacked him. Her glare held no heat, however.

"Don't listen to your father," she said. "We love you Harry. I can tell you'll go far. Even if someday we're not here for you, be strong, my little boy."

Both of their faces faded as they turned to smile at one another.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

The great hall was silent. Not a single word was spoken amongst the students, nor amongst the staff. Mcgonagall let a single tear fall from her eyes, while she smiled at her Gryffindor.

Minister Fudge was in shock. Harry Potter had told the truth and then some. This did _not_ put the ministry in a good light _at all_. His plan had failed, not only miserably, but spectacularly.

Zacharias Smith was berating himself in his head. No wonder Harry hadn't told them! He felt like such an idiot.

Ron was remembering the Harry he'd met on the Hogwarts express. That Harry had been excited to meet someone new. What if he'd sat in a different compartment? While there were so many things that had happened that wouldn't have if Ron hadn't made friends, there was so much he'd have missed out on. Thank Merlin Harry had forgiven him after fourth year's disaster.

Snape was trying not to throw up. He was a spy, damn it! He definitely wasn't going to lose his cool over this. But… He'd thought Potter was a pampered prince! That was not the life of a spoiled child. That was like- dare he say it? Like his own childhood! He was not allowed to feel sympathy for Potter. It was Potter for Merlin's sake! But to think he had missed this right under his nose because he was too blinded by his own grudge made him sick. Ooh, was Albus going to get it. He didn't care if he'd spent the last five years torturing the brat- Albus was definitely going to get an earful.

Mcgonagall… Oh, Mcgonagall was trying hard not to cry and planning Albus Dumbledore's demise. She'd told him, oh yes, she'd told him that they were the worst sort of muggles imaginable. And after everything else the boy went through. She didn't care if she had to team up with Severus- Albus was going to be hanging by his ankles in her office.

Hermione was smiling. Finally, finally, everyone would understand.

Albus Dumbledore was trying not to meet his Deputy's eyes. Oh, was he sorry. He'd made a monumental mistake. All of this had gone on in his school, under his nose. Not to mention the despicable Dursleys. If he lived through the day he'd apologize to Harry and Minerva. The latter from a safe distance. Perhaps he should have Fawks on hand, just in case…

Draco Malfoy sneered. What a baby. Puny little Potter trying to get attention. But he did fight a basilisk… And face the Dark Lord… Draco frowned.

Ginny was crying. Poor Harry. She was so going bat bogey the Dark Lord.

Neville was pale. He understood what that prophecy meant. It could have been him. That would have been a disaster. He would have probably face planted in front of the Dark Lord. Voldemort would have laughed. Neville gulped. Sad and selfish though it was, he was glad that Harry was the boy who lived.

Seamus felt really, really bad. How was he to know that Harry had told the truth! It was so far fetched. He had realized his mistake at the end of last year, but it hadn't really hit home how wrong he'd been. Oh well, he'd try to apologize to Harry later. And send a letter to his mother to tell her to unsubscribe to the prophet…

And Harry. Harry didn't know how to feel. It felt like a large bucket of ice water was dumped over his head as secret after secret was revealed. He knew that legally he wouldn't be charged because of anything shown in the song- Hermione had told him. But now that everyone knew… He was relieved, sure, but also terrified. Would anything be different? Probably not. Harry had too much experience with these things. Green eyes, hidden from the crowd, glinted sardonically.

Harry took a deep breath of air. Unbidden, an image of his mother came to mind. Just the thought of her words brought a smile to his face. Lips twitching, he turned to the great hall.

He looked just as unruffled as he did every day, which made it all the more strange to those watching. Green eyes glinting, he saluted the hall in a jaunty gesture.

Behind him, he heard Hermione mutter, "Seriously, Harry?"

Harry's grin widened.

Colin Creevey, who was sitting in the crowd, broke the stunned silence. "So Harry, is your cousin really that fat, or was it just a trick of the light?"

Harry burst out laughing. Of all the things to ask, Colin had focused on that! Harry risked a glance at the hall. The audience was staring at Colin with blatant expressions of shock. Harry couldn't help it. It set him off again. Perhaps it was all the stress of the song being played, perhaps it was the answer to Colin's question, but Harry couldn't stop laughing. Finally, he got a hold on himself, and, as so not to appear any more crazy that they thought he already was, straightened up.

Keeping a straight face, Harry said, "Dudley really is the weight of a healthy baby whale, if that's what you're wondering."

Hermione snorted.

"When I was fourteen, Vernon enlarged the doors so that he could fit. It was sad really. I miss watching him trying to get into the kitchen and getting stuck…" Harry trailed off, a faux remorseful expression on his face.

This was clearly too much for Hermione, who doubled over in silent laughter. Harry watched out of the corner of his eye, trying not to laugh again. Thinking that one glance at Snape would immediately dispel all traces of humor, he turned toward the staff table.

And promptly choked on air. He had had no idea Snape could look so… Confused.

The legendary professor had his mouth open. _His mouth open_. Harry pressed rebelling lips tightly together. He was half convinced that he'd just been given laughing gas, with the way that this was going.

He turned back to a snickering Professor Mcgonagall, who had followed his line of sight to Snape. "Who's next?"

Mcgonagall immediately stopped laughing. She glanced down at her list. "Parkinson-"

Minister Fudge, who had previously remained silent, scrambled forward. "No, no, we are done. The- ah, the ministry sees no reason to prolong the ceremony…" He trailed off at Mcgonagall's murderous look.

"You don't want any more unfortunate facts about the you to surface, I see."

Minister Fudge recoiled. Harry, unable to resist, came to stand by his professor.

"Minister, I beg your pardon? Wasn't the point to check every sixth year? We wouldn't want anyone singled out unfairly, would we?"

Fudge looked like he wanted to disappear.

From the audience, someone shouted, "Throw him out of office!"

"Yeah!"

It was like a switch was flipped. Soon, all of Hogwarts was on their feet, chanting, "Out of office, out of office!"

Moving as one, the students and teachers, with Harry Potter at the front, corralled the minister and his bodyguards toward the door. It was a monumental moment when the Slytherins, glancing toward Draco Malfoy, found him on his feet and moving towards Fudge.

"Out of office, out of office!"

Fudge tried to reassert control, shouting and hollering at the angry students. They continued to push him towards the door until he reached the entryway of the great hall. With one final shout about ministry policy, which was ignored, Fudge bolted through the wooden doors, which were promptly slammed shut by students behind him.

Harry turned, only to find himself face to face with Draco Malfoy. Both of them scanned each other, perfectly aware of the tension in the hall as everyone waited for something to happen.

Malfoy frowned. "I still don't like you, Potter, but you're not that bad."

Harry's lips tilted into a half smile. "Truce?"

Draco looked down at the hand, briefly considering rejecting, but thought about everything he'd seen. It couldn't be that horrible…

They shook hands. "Truce."

"Slytherin's still going to crush you at Quidditch, though."

Harry gasped. "Never!"

Smiling with his friends, Harry James Potter, the esteemed Boy-Who-Lived, headed back to the Gryffindor table.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 **Kudos to the writers of Titanium, The Logical Song, and Fire and Gold.**

 **Yay! I can sense the exasperation from across the internet! Another story completed... started... whatever. My evil plan is almost ready! Bow down against the fearsome might of... Crappy ship names! *evil cackle* Ready for it... Peterry! I can sense it! You just threw up in your mouth! Granted, when I first heard that I did too. No offense to all you Peterry writers out there, but that's just wrong. I can understand Tom/Harry to an extent, but Peter/Harry? *shivers* Anyway, with that embarrassing show of immaturity out of the way, REVIEW! Or not. Either way, beware the pineapple ninjas.**


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